Waging Wars
by Serra Se Monz
Summary: After the fall of the Great Uniter, putting the scattered pieces of Republic City back together proves harder than Korra could ever have imagined. Tired, short-tempered, and desperate, she turns to a haunting voice in a floating prison for the tough answers no one else is willing to give her. In seeking Kuvira's help, she may find more than she bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** T, momentarily. That will likely change.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **Author's Note:** I'll be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing here. I was dragged (with minimal protest) into another Korra rewatch recently, and found myself once again _fascinated_ with the ending dynamic between Korra and Kuvira. I've been wanting to explore that since... forever... so here I am. Where it goes from this… we'll see.

* * *

"You're not supposed to be here," Kuvira whispered, breath ghosting in air lit by the fading sunset.

Korra could only see her silhouette. The Great Uniter didn't so much as turn her head to check who had arrived.

"I've already had dinner."

Ah. She was expecting a returning guard. "I'm not here to drop off food."

Kuvira's head whipped around, eyes wide, but she quickly regained her composure, and that fierce, collected mask Korra had seen staring out at her from Earth Empire propaganda posters all throughout the city descended across her face.

"You aren't supposed to be here, either."

Korra scuffed her toes, glad Kuvira couldn't see the nervous motion through the small, chest-high window in her wooden cell. "Why not?"

Kuvira turned away again, staring through the opposite window and out across the sea beyond. "Because it's only been a month. Because you have better things to be doing. Because you're the Avatar."

Korra shrugged. "Well I… I've been on vacation. I got back not too long ago and I thought…"

"Thought what?" Kuvira chuckled, the rasp in her voice more pronounced than Korra had heard before. "Thought you needed to come by and check on your handiwork?"

There was little malice in the words. Korra wished Kuvira would look at her, sure there must be more anger in her eyes than there was in her voice. "No, I…" Korra trailed off as Kuvira slowly turned towards her, stare just as empty as before.

"I came to ask for your help," she finally said. Her voice cracked.

Kuvira arched a single eyebrow. When Korra looked away, silent, she asked, "And how might I be of service to the Avatar?" There was a dry, almost cruel humor in the words, a self-depreciating reminder that there was no Great Uniter here, only a woman just older than the Avatar herself, locked in wooden cell, afloat in the Eastern Sea.

"How did you do it?" Korra asked. She didn't appreciate the desperation she heard in her own voice. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her own palms. "At first. Before all the… reeducation facilities and border walls and… giant mecha suits. You… you were just… you. You had a couple airships and a few guards and a bit of money and you put Ba Sing Se back together in a matter of _weeks._ "

"I had an army, you know." Korra wasn't sure, but she thought she heard a hint of amusement in Kuvira's voice.

Korra shook her head. "How did you _get that_ , though! In the time it took you to fly from Zaofu to the capital, you had a following as huge and loyal as the military in the Fire Nation! No one questioned your command decisions, no one doubted your abilities, no one asked you what qualified you to rebuild an entire city of scattered refugees and looters and bandits and wreckage and—"

"Republic City giving you a bit of trouble, Avatar?"

Korra stopped in her tracks, only just saving herself from cracking her knees into the railing. She hadn't even realized she was pacing, but she was halfway across the ship from Kuvira's cell, now, and her arms were hovering awkwardly mid-air, so she had probably been waving them around. Stuffing them back in her pockets, Korra kicked the railing. "What makes you say that?"

She could practically hear the smile in Kuvira's voice. "I made a bit of a mess, did I not? Besides, you weren't talking about me just then. Abilities? Qualifications? Ever since you disappeared, you've been fighting two separate wars: one against me, and once against your own damaged reputation."

Korra gritted her teeth. She didn't appreciate it, hearing those words come out of Kuvira's mouth like that, but she couldn't afford to get angry at Kuvira for getting it right. That was why she was here, after all. "How can I fix something this big? How did you… How were you so successful?"

Korra walked slowly back to the window, resting her hand against the sill between slats of platinum grating, but it was completely dark within the cell. Night had fallen, and Kuvira could be trusted with neither the fire of torches, nor the metal wiring of electrical light.

Kuvira's voice was uncomfortably close when she spoke, and Korra flinched. "Are you absolutely certain you should be asking me? You know very well I have no qualms when it comes to reputation."

Korra stepped back a pace. She could feel Kuvira's breath against her fingers. "No. I'm not. It's probably the worst idea I've had yet, and I've had a lot of those these past couple years. But I'm here, and I'm asking." Korra took a deep breath, shaking her head. "I'm out of the loop. I should never have left," she muttered, glaring down at her own feet. She would never forget how strained it had been in the Spirit World. Asami just wanted them to relax, to take a break, but as hard as Korra tried, she couldn't forget everything they had left behind, the mess of so many lives, and her responsibility to fix it. Instead, the "vacation" had been a short and stilted affair marked by more half-distracted conversations and barely-dodged arguments than peaceful moments. "Now, I'm back, and I keep trying to help, but the world leaders still tip-toe around me like I'm some supercharged mess of spirit vines ready to explode in their faces if I touch anything!"

She looked away from the cell, away from the ship, out across the star-spotted darkness of the calm, empty sea. "I don't know what else to do," she added quietly. "Half of the refugees have given up on the city and gone back to the Earth Kingdom. The rest are fighting for remnants of their lives in a mess of rubble and vines. A new gang of firebenders is terrorizing anyone who even sets foot downtown with homemade lightning-powered spirit vine weapons, and between them and the looters and bandits, it's impossible for anyone to rebuild. I want to be involved, but Raiko keeps blaming me for making the portal in the first place. He doesn't want me—"

"—Don't fight two wars at once."

Korra's gaze was drawn back to that voice. It had haunted her dreams nearly every night as she slept next to Asami in the Spirit World, rasping out half-heard taunts of failure and neglect, a ghostly challenge that had her waking in a cold sweat, determined to prove the voice wrong, prove herself capable of returning balance again, capable of keeping herself as unaffected as she had been the last time she had confronted Kuvira, kneeling in the very fields of spirit flowers she would have to walk through to get home. Now, though, hanging heavy in the dark night air, Kuvira's voice held a more earthly power, reminding Korra of the sure, cool strength it conveyed as it echoed through the streets only weeks before, carried by radio waves, but feeling as though it could have been carried by will alone. Even now, Kuvira sounded like the Great Uniter.

"Don't divide yourself. Choose the one that matters more: your city, or your image. You can either fight against your own past, or you can fight against mine. If you try to fight both, you will lose."

Korra shook off her distracted thoughts. "But how can I expect to clean up _your_ mess if Raiko won't let me help!"

" _Let_ you? You're the Avatar."

"I—Well—Yeah. But I—International law says I—"

"That's another war. Raiko has no nation. He has heaps of rock and spirit vines. I made sure of that."

Korra silenced her own protests by biting her lip. Kuvira… she wasn't wrong. If she couldn't bring balance back to the city, she would lose what respect she had regained in defeating the Great Uniter. She couldn't keep waiting around playing politics and arguing with the President about who to blame. That was a war that no one was going to win. "Two wars. I'm fighting two wars," she whispered. It was an uncomfortable realization. She knew Kuvira's story. No one had told the young captain to fix Ba Sing Se. She hadn't sat around Zaofu waiting for someone to take the place of their leader or arguing with Suyin about her decision to take command. She stepped up. Alone.

Korra's wandering feet had started to pull her away from Kuvira's cell, but that inescapable voice pulled her to a halt. "Be careful, Korra." If she wasn't mistaken, there was a strained hint of genuine concern in Kuvira's quick words. "Even one war can be too much for one person. I did what I had to to keep control. You aren't willing to do that. Don't get in over your head."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually. (Yes, I made up my mind rather quickly on this one.)

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **Author's Note:** This is going to be a ten-ish chapter story composed entirely of moments where Korra and Kuvira are in the same place, followed by some sort of epilogue. It will probably span about two years.

* * *

"Back so soon?"

If it hadn't been six full months since Korra last stood outside this cell, she might have missed the sarcasm in Kuvira's words. It was strange, seeing her in full daylight without the iconic uniform, hair down, not a scrap of metal in sight. In the dull, gray prison garb, Kuvira looked worn, tired, but there was still steel in her voice, and Korra found herself flinching back from it as surely as she would have an actual weapon.

She almost apologized for not coming by sooner after their last talk, but what good would that do? Kuvira wasn't a friend; Korra doubted the Great Uniter would care one way or another if Korra never saw her again.

Luckily, before Korra had a chance to stumble over a greeting, Kuvira offered her a better chance to start their conversation. "A lot can change in half a year."

"Yeah. It can. It did." Korra sat on the deck, trying to find a sense of normalcy in being here. It didn't help that Kuvira made no move to follow suit, still standing against the far wall of the cell. Now, Korra had to look up at her when she spoke, or make the awkward choice to stand again.

Instead, she looked down at her hands, fiddling with a few drops of seawater that had collected in the grooves of the wood. "What you said… it helped. A lot. I couldn't help with the relocation and the refugees without running into Raiko's men everywhere, but the spirit vine problem… Yeah. It's a lot of work, finding where the gangs are harvesting them, and keeping people from blowing themselves up, let alone anyone else has been… kind of a full time job, but it seems like even the worst of the worst are starting to realize just how dangerous that power can be, and we haven't had trouble with spirit weapons in almost a month, now. People trust me again."

Kuvira's expression was unreadable. "Are you here looking for congratulations, Avatar?"

Korra looked up, and the water she'd been bending for something to fidget with trickled back into the grooves between the deck planks. "No," she said. She sighed. It would be nice, actually. There were a couple of times in the last month when everything had seemed to be finally falling back into place, where she imagined coming here again and standing in front of Kuvira and—in the nicest, most well-intentioned, least-petty way imaginable, of course—rubbing it in her face. That she had done what Kuvira couldn't, bringing people back together from chaos without anyone having to be pushed aside in the process. Everything was going well. Too well.

Then, the protests started.

"There's a whole new problem now. I don't really know why I'm here," she admitted. "This isn't exactly your strong suit. I guess it's just…" Korra shrugged, waving her palm over the deck again and gathering a tiny ball of water to hover in front of her eyes. "You kind of... have to listen to me." Even through the distortion of the water, she could still see Kuvira's eyebrows rise. "Sorry," she added, biting her lip. "I mean, it's true. You can't close the meeting room doors on me or tell me to get back to the spirit wilds. But you don't have to humor me, either. Tenzin thinks this is all just—" Korra stretched the water into a little spinning disk in exasperation. "—part of a healing process. That I did the balancing bit, and now, as long as the air benders are flying around helping out and I keep the potential in spirit weapons from destroying us all, everything will settle down soon. So when I try to talk though ideas with him about the protestors, I know he's just listening because he's… him. Not because he thinks I should be worried about this."

Kuvira stepped closer. "Protesters?"

For the first time, Korra thought she sensed actual curiosity. She flushed with embarrassment as she realized just how long she had been spilling nonsense about her personal issues with all of this instead of actually telling Kuvira what was going on.

"Oh yeah. Between the spirit vine scare and a lot of old fears from the Hundred Year War, people are getting twitchy around firebenders again. No one wants to know what it is about electricity and spirit vines that started this whole problem in the first place; they just know that firebenders can set them off, and they aren't happy about it. People who have been neighbors for years suddenly don't trust each other! Some families won't send their children back to school with firebenders, and there's even the start of a movement to throw them all out of the city for good. You know, every time I think the United Republic is finally done being strung up about me leaving the spirit portals open, something shifts again." Korra was starting to think Wan might have been right. There was no balance with the two worlds mixed together; only chaos. "No one but me really seems worried. It's all… 'free speech' this and 'reasonable fears' that and nobody seems to care that firebenders are getting hurt!" Well, that wasn't quite true. Lin was furious and running herself ragged over the sudden spike in crime with firebending victims, but there was only so much she could do when there were tensions and questions of loyalty in her own department. Not even the police were exempt from casting judgement. "I have to do something," she finished, voice uncomfortably shaky.

"You know your options are limited, don't you?"

"Obviously," Korra snapped, then winced. "Sorry, but yeah, I really do. That's why I keep ending up here, of all places, for help."

"I wouldn't call two visits a pattern yet, Avatar. You've done a remarkable amount on your own."

"Thanks. I think." She could never really tell with Kuvira, what the drive was behind her subtle, occasional kindness. It was always something half-veiled in condescension, but it was still nice to hear.

"But this is one of those times where you either have to do much more, or nothing," Kuvira added, ignoring Korra's awkward thanks.

"Well, I'm not doing nothing. I saw one of those 'anti-terrorism' rallies. Tenzin can say what he wants; this isn't going away on its own. Those people want to see every firebender thrown out of the city. There was a petition! To me! Demanding that I take the bending away from any firebender who was found living near spirit vines, or any firebender who refused to leave the city. It's not huge, yet, but neither were the Equalists once upon a time. People are going to get hurt! I can't—"

"I didn't expect you to." There was a hint of a smile, there, after those words, but if Korra wasn't imagining things, there was a touch of sadness to it. "But you have to understand the path you're taking if you don't want to let the people work through this on their own. Prejudice is a powerful weapon. It's an option. In a time like this, you either regulate prejudice by enforcing it, or by enforcing tolerance. And tolerance is a lot more work."

Kuvira spoke slowly, as though weighing each of her own words to be sure of its merit.

"I considered it, you know. The benefits of diversity in the Earth Kingdom. But there's no room for diversity in an Empire. Diversity breeds discontentment, particularly when it comes to war. It's so much easier to trust someone who looks like you, thinks like you… was raised the same way you were. When your enemy looks just like the soldier beside you, your resolve weakens."

"That's disgusting," Korra said. She couldn't seem to look away from Kuvira's eyes, though. There was so much power there, in this great ruler of nothing, lording her quiet words over an empty sea and one single listener. "How can you think like that? You made half a nation think every other type of bender was nothing more than unwanted vermin in the Earth Kingdom. Do you know how many people you left homeless? They won't go back, either. They might not ever feel welcome again."

"I know," Kuvira replied.

There was a silence after those simple words. Kuvira shook her head, scowling and turning away. "That's the one part I don't think you'll ever understand, Avatar. I've had a lot of empty hours to think about what you said to me, after you saved my life. And maybe there is something between us, some fierce, determined, tired part of us that makes us the same, but you've always had more. You've had _time_. The Avatar has eternity to craft the world. I had _one chance_ , Korra. One chance, and I wasted it. You don't know what it's like. To watch yourself going too fast, watch yourself losing control, watch yourself take the harsher and harsher path because it's _easier_ and because there just isn't time!"

Kuvira spun back towards her, eyes flashing with more fierce, ragged emotion than Korra expected, and she flinched. But as Kuvira opened her mouth one more time, that spark visibly faded, cooled, and died. "What I wouldn't have given for your power. For the time to help my people find peace. I never had that. I had war. I had fear. I had three years. I used what I had." When she finished, her face was expressionless. Closed.

Korra was quiet for some time. Neither of them looked away. Korra could feel the force of Kuvira's stare like a one-sided battle of wills, but she wasn't pushing back. She was… thinking. "You're right. I've had a lot of lifetimes of messing around with the world, but I… I know what it feels like to be running out of time. I lost my past lives. All of them. All those missing centuries. I'll never get that back. And I thought I was going to be the last Avatar more times than is really fair for a whopping two years' worth of doing the job. So… I don't think about it that way, like I have the next eternity to get things done. I _always_ feel like I have to do too much, that it has to be me fixing everything, as fast as possible. I've made bad decisions because of it. I almost destroyed the world during harmonic convergence. I—" Taking advantage of the intense eye contact she was still being subjected to, Korra offered a weak smile. "—trusted you. For a while. When you told me what you were doing in Zaofu."

Kuvira shook her head. "So. Your bad decision was deciding to believe me? What does that say about _being_ me?

Korra winced. So a line about trust hadn't exactly been the most tasteful attempt at levity.

"You didn't raze cities to the ground, try to murder people you.. cared for, or conquer an entire nation with no regard for human life. Your worst decisions can't even compare to the simplest choices I made every day as the Great Uniter."

"You've changed, though."

"Have I?"

Kuvira stepped closer, grasping the wood of the windowsill tight between her palms and fingers, as though she could crush it in an instant.

"Do you really think now, given the chance, I wouldn't still want everything I wanted back then? Do you think, in just these past few months, I've come up with some better way I could have done things? Do you think I ever would have apologized if I had won?"

"Yeah," Korra said. The word came out almost too soft to hear, so she cleared her throat. "Yes. I do."

Kuvira glared and spun away, pacing to the far side of her cell. "Well, you're wrong. And you shouldn't come here again. I don't have any answers for you about fixing the world. You need to realize that, and you need to move on."

"Kuvira—"

"No. Whatever hang-ups you have about me, about what I did… I'm not your enemy anymore, and I'm certainly not your ally. I'm just…" She spread her hands, then let them fall to her sides, and she didn't finish her sentence.

Korra slowly unfolded herself from the deck, wincing as a leg long gone to sleep protested the sudden weight it had to bear. "I'm not leaving like this," she said. She stepped up to the window.

"What do you want, Avatar?"

Those cold words sent a shiver of déjà vu racing down Korra's spine. For the first time, she realized how different it felt when Kuvira used her title. It wasn't out of respect, but it wasn't the dismissive, almost derogatory use of " _Avatar"_ she had come to expect from people who didn't agree with her. Kuvira used her title like a wall, slamming it down between them to create distance from… something. Korra's words, probably. Maybe even Korra herself.

"I want…" Korra paused. It was hard to put words to something she didn't even know herself, but maybe Kuvira had given her the answer. "As the Avatar… I want to give you a chance to do something again. I look at you and I… I see a force for changing the world that I don't know if I'll ever see equaled again in my lifetime, and I don't like that no one really knew what to do with that when you surrendered. As the Avatar, I keep thinking…" Korra scuffed the toe of her boot against the deck, wincing when she kicked the side of the cell much harder than she intended. Kuvira didn't even flinch at the sound. "I just keep patching up holes, you know? And ripping new ones, but never really changing the way things are. You took a kingdom that had been exactly the same for thousands and thousands of years, and you made it something _completely_ different."

Kuvira exhaled sharply. "I was a dictator instead of a monarch. You all have made it perfectly clear to me that no one sees any difference, there."

"I've never said that," Korra snapped. "Look, I may not like how you did it, but I'm not blind. You absolutely _crushed_ inequality in the Earth Kingdom. Without what you did, Wu would be dealing with a _disaster_ right now. Instead, we're expecting the first election by the end of the year, and because of you, he has the infrastructure, the political systems, the… the literacy to do it! Earth Empire citizens already voted to remain unified rather than breaking apart into a system of independent states. Your people are loyal to each other now in a way I've never seen before. I can't believe that was all just… _prejudice._ " Korra spat the last word, and it still left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Ahhh." The knowing syllable slid slowly from Kuvira's lips as she turned once again towards the window where Korra stood. "Back to that, are we?" With slow, deliberate steps, she moved closer and closer towards the Avatar, until she was very actively invading Korra's personal space. Korra felt herself swallow down a sudden flash of nervousness, but she didn't back away, afraid to stop whatever Kuvira might say next. "You won't leave until you have a solution to your _firebender problem_. Is that it?"

She didn't give Korra a chance to respond.

"I already told you. If you aren't willing to let Republic City work through this on its own, and you don't want to use all the prejudice brewing there to your own advantage, you're going to have to do more than sit by, reacting to attacks and provocations as they happen. We don't live in an accepting world. If you don't create tolerance, it doesn't exist. Your 'United Republic' will always be just as afraid of difference as the rest of the world. You can force them to live with it, or you can stamp it out."

The harsh, challenging set of Kuvira's eyebrows and lips added fire to her last words, and Korra had to look away to keep her calm. "I don't know if I believe that. About… everyone being afraid of difference. But…" Korra felt her tongue trip over the word. But what? But Kuvira had a point again? But even if there are times when people can accept difference, it sure didn't seem to be happening now? Korra didn't want there to be a _but_. She wanted a way to keep everyone safe without… constantly having to tell everyone what to do. "I don't think these people are really scared of each other, alright? I think they're just… scared of change."

Korra looked up just in time to see Kuvira shake her head. "That's an excuse. It might have been true six months ago. Not anymore."

Korra stepped away, frustrated. "I can't force tolerance on people, Kuvira. That will never work."

Kuvira laughed, then, and Korra flinched at the dark, heavy sound. "So, what? You storm off now that I've given you an answer you don't like? It doesn't seem like you came here for my advice at all. You just wanted my agreement."

Korra scowled. "How, then? I'm not Raiko. I can't pass laws."

Kuvira shook her head again. "I tried that. Laws. Rules. A regime of unwavering equality and stability. That part… didn't work."

"Sure it did!" Korra snapped back, unable to keep the growing irritation out of her voice. "That wasn't the problem, I just won't do it! I mean, clearly, it worked. You had your entire Empire kneeling at your feet!"

"No. That's what I've been trying to tell you. All the new policies I made to be sure every citizen was treated exactly the same under the law only landed thousands of dissenters in prison and saw hundreds more fleeing across the borders. The people loyal to me? They were loyal because I changed minds, Korra, not laws. In the beginning… that was my power. Persuasion. I even had you trusting me. For a little while."

The cautious allusion to Korra's earlier words about making the mistake to trust her in Zaofu was startling. There it was, that hint of a smile turning up one corner of Kuvira's mouth, a little gesture of truce that popped a hole in Korra's anger. She slumped against the railing of the ship, deflating with a sigh. "So… what? I give speeches? Not exactly my strong suit."

That faint smile managed to steal its way across the other half of Kuvira's mouth for a moment before she carefully hid it again. "How you persuade people to trust firebenders again is up to you. You were right; that isn't my strong suit. The best I could offer was… options. I gave you three: time, prejudice, persuasion. We both know which you'll choose."

When Korra didn't immediately reply, Kuvira stepped back from the bars. "I believe I've done my duty, here."

Korra groaned. Half of her wanted to thank Kuvira, and the other half really just wanted to bash her own head against the railing for a little while. That sounded a lot easier than actually having to process this ridiculous conversation they'd just had. "I… Okay. I get the picture. I'll leave you alone. Thanks. I think. Again."

She started to walk off, then paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Kuvira, I… I don't want you to feel like you have to do this with me. I have no right to turn up here pushing your buttons and demanding answers to problems you don't have any say in and I…"

Kuvira held up a hand. "Don't." She paused. "Do what you want, Korra. Don't pretend like my feelings play any part in this. I'm locked up in a floating box for what is most likely the rest of my life. Whatever it is that makes me interesting to you, I'm sure I'll lose my novelty soon enough. Until that happens…" Kuvira's face was in shadow, and Korra could read no real emotion in the voice of the Great Uniter. "I'd hazard a guess I'm going to see you again, Avatar."

Korra stood in silence for a long time. She didn't have words for this, for any of this. For the strange, dark feeling in her gut that kept telling her to come back here every time things in Republic City got too far out of hand. For the raw mess of emotions she felt every time she laid eyes on the once Great Uniter in her stark, cruel cage, the sickening twist of vindictive pride at war with genuine regret. She didn't have words for the chills that crept up her spine every time Kuvira spoke of what she had done to keep power, or for the goosebumps that rose in their wake as Kuvira clinically dissected the very things that made their world tick.

In the end, Korra couldn't say anything. She stepped over the railing, drifted down onto her waiting boat, and set off for Republic City without a word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **Author's Note:** Happy (belated) holidays! Have a (belated) update!

* * *

Korra could hear raised voices well before she steered her skiff up alongside Kuvira's floating prison.

"Don't you see? We need to end this! As long as she's out here she's a figurehead! She hasn't given up power at all!"

"And what do you propose we do?" Compared to the first irate words from President Raiko, Firelord Izumi sounded incredibly calm. "Kill her? Then you would just have a martyr instead. And besides, your Republic outlawed the execution of prisoners decades ago."

"So we make an example out of her! Public humiliation. Menial labor. Anything but this… this floating joke of a punishment!"

"That isn't going to change anyone's mind."

Korra peeped carefully over the edge of the deck just in time to watch Tenzin's brow crease with worry. As he continued speaking, though, his voice was firm.

"Anything we do to her will only make her supporters' resolve stronger."

"Aw, come on. The people love me! I can always wear the crown, just for a little while, try this whole 'democracy' thing on again later…"

Unsurprisingly, the other world leaders ignored Wu. Korra wondered why he was even here.

"I say we need to end this, once and for all." Raiko insisted.

"You've made that abundantly clear, but I have yet to hear a single reasonable proposition about—"

Raiko cut off the Firelord in clear fury. "—Neither have I! Where's _your_ proposition?"

She skewered him with cold eyes. "I believe those of us gathered here today can all agree that the citizens of the Earth Kingdom do not know what is in their own best interest. If Kuvira's presence keeps raising trouble, the other nations will need to step in. We—"

"—Woah, woah, let's back up just a second. I didn't step down just so my family's throne could—"

"—The Air Nation isn't remotely interested in—"

"—could divide up the provinces into states under—"

"—The people already voted to stay united!"

"—already established leaders from the other nations."

"The people also voted _her_ as the new president!"

Silence fell as everyone followed Raiko's extended, accusatory finger towards Kuvira's cell.

"Ah," Kuvira said. "At last. So that's what all this commotion is about." She shook her head. "Would anyone care to explain? Korra?"

If Korra hadn't been rather preoccupied with swallowing nervously, she might have laughed at the sight of four of the most important heads in the world whirling around to stare at her in apparent shock.

"Korra!" Tenzin didn't look pleased to see her. "What are you doing here?"

Hoisting herself up over the landing and carefully tying her smaller boat to the rail, Korra approached the other world leaders. As soon as she'd gotten the news, she had a feeling something like this was going to happen. Everyone was here, yelling right over Kuvira's head, treating her like this could somehow simultaneously be all her fault, and as though she didn't deserve the slightest acknowledgement in deciding what would happen next. It didn't help that no one had bothered to actually extend an invitation to her, but she wasn't surprised. She'd burned a few bridges, these past months.

Ignoring the various degrees of surprise and anger in the stares of Tenzin, Izumi, Raiko, and Wu, Korra stepped up to the bars of the window and spoke directly to the woman behind them.

"The first election results just came in. We thought everything was going well, till now. Two men were campaigning, a non-bender cousin of the Royal Family, and a retired earthbending general. Neither of them were getting big crowds or enthusiastic support but… we didn't realize… They both withdrew. The morning of the election. We had radio silence in Republic city and by the time we caught on… You won. Whoever you have, there, whoever is still loyal to you… they organized something, a massive write-in campaign."

"'Write-in campaign,'" Raiko snarled. "That's a joke! It was a campaign of terror! Your military still controls the whole Empire! You've been manipulating this from the start!"

"That's not true and you know it, Raiko," Korra said. "She had nothing to do with this."

"She had everything to do with this," the Firelord interjected. "But do I believe she was actively involved? No."

Korra slumped a bit. "That's fair," she admitted. "But we can't blame her for… loyalty. She gave the Earth Kingdom power again. I, for one, am not that surprised they want to keep it."

"Korra, you can't honestly think… Less than half of the citizens of the Earth Kingdom participated in the election! The rest were more than likely intimidated away, and you want to defend her?" Tenzin was appalled.

Korra shook her head in frustration. "Look, I'm not saying it was a fair election, but what are you guys doing here yelling at her? Blaming her isn't the answer. I mean… look at her! She's not trying to take advantage of this at all! She had no idea it was happening!"

The woman in question looked, if anything, bemused. She was watching Korra from beneath raised eyebrows. "Would anyone actually care for my opinion on this?"

"No!" Raiko immediately snapped. "We didn't come here to… to conspire with a war criminal."

Korra stepped towards him, a second from getting up in his face, but the Firelord's words made her pause. "Did we not? Why are we here, then? I, for one, am curious."

Reluctantly, Tenzin nodded. "I don't like it any more than you do, Raiko, but she knows these… these rabble-rousers better we do."

"So she can't be trusted!" Raiko insisted, glasses quivering precariously at the end of his nose.

Wu was nodding along. "I'm telling you, I—"

"—Let her talk," Korra cut in, injecting as much authority into her voice as she could manage.

The resulting pause gave Kuvira just enough of an opening to steal their attention."

"I see four paths for you. If you kill me, you will have war. If you divide up my nation, you will have civil war. If you attempt a re-election, you will see the same result as you did today, and if you do anything to prevent that, you will have war. No one would be stupid enough to run against my legacy."

When Kuvira fell silent, Tenzin prompted, "And the fourth?"

Kuvira sighed. "You won't like it." She shook her head, turning away from the cluster on the deck and crossing to the cot at the far side of the cell. She sat before looking back up at them. "Stop waiting till they're ready to be governed. Draft a constitution. I recommend speaking with Suyin Beifong for an Earth Kingdom perspective, but if you must have full control, draft something you wouldn't mind being governed by. Include a provision. The seat of an elected official may not be occupied by anyone held in contempt of the law or currently in prison."

Raiko made a noise of disgust. "It's no difference than forcing a leader on them. We'll still have war."

Kuvira stared until he quieted again. "I wasn't finished. Draft this constitution, and I'll sign it. Someone will have to step up to take my place, perhaps even after a real election, but symbolically… it may be enough. They might still hold out hope for a future where I return. That hope could prove to be what it takes to quell uprising. I believe, at heart, that my people are tired of war. Give them this chance to choose another path."

When Kuvira fell silent, no one spoke for more than a minute.

"I don't like it," Raiko finally muttered.

"Nor I," the Firelord agreed. "But I do believe it is the best option we've been offered."

Raiko had been nodding in smug relief when Izumi echoed his discontent, but by the time she finished, he was spluttering and shaking his head. "What? No! How can you even say that! Not ten minutes ago you wanted to break up the Empire!"

Izumi remained calm. "While I do not like the idea of legitimizing the Earth Kingdom election by giving Kuvira the power to sign a constitution, she is right on all other fronts. The United Republic and the Fire Nation may well be able to step in and take charge, but not without a war. In drafting a constitution, we can greatly influence the formative years of a new, restored Earth… territory. All without a significant loss of life."

In that moment, Korra could have hugged her.

When Raiko opened his mouth, Izumi held up a hand. " _And_ , all other options remain open should this fail. We have very little to lose, and much could be gained. All in favor?"

Tenzin and Izumi held up a hand. Korra elbowed Wu in the ribs, and he joined them with only a faint squeak of protest."

"We have consensus, then. We will consult with Chief Tonraq by radio when we return, but regardless of his vote, we have majority support for Kuvira's plan."

"Mark my words. This is going to haunt us," Raiko insisted, but he and the other leaders dispersed without further debate.

When Raiko's boat, the last to depart, started its engines, Korra turned towards Kuvira's cell with a grin. "Alright!"

When she met Kuvira's eyes, though, her triumphant exclamation fell flat. Kuvira didn't look particularly pleased or relieved. She just looked… tired.

"Are you okay?" Korra asked. "What's wrong?"

Kuvira closed her eyes, leaning back against the slats of the cell wall behind her cot. "Thank you for your support, Avatar," she said. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to get some rest."

"It's the middle of the day!" Korra said, indignant. "What's wrong?"

Kuvira didn't even open her eyes. "Korra. I'm doing my best. I'm not in the mood for your games today. I'm grateful you took the time to make sure I understood what had happened, but I'm tired. I'm tired of playing politics I have no say in. I've had enough for one afternoon."

Korra slumped. "I… that's fair. I can go."

As she turned, a hand snaked out between the window bars and grasped her arm. Korra flinched. She hadn't even heard Kuvira stand. "Do one thing for me?"

Korra searched Kuvira's eyes. "What?"

"Make them consult with Su. Don't let them create something with no regard for the culture and history of my people."

"I can't make them—"

"—Just make sure she knows. If she knows, she'll be involved. She won't have it any other way. It's just… if they don't tell her…"

"Okay," Korra said, relieved. Kuvira wasn't asking for anything treasonous, just a conversation. "I'll stop by Zaofu before I head for the Southern Water Tribe. I can do that much."

Kuvira dropped her hand. "Thank you." There was a quiet sincerity in those words that made Korra smile.

"I don't think you're as tired of politics as you claim you are," Korra teased.

Kuvira's face closed instantly. "This isn't about politics, Avatar. This is about my people."

Korra opened her mouth, shut it, and sighed through her nose.

She left Kuvira alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **Author's Note:** You know, this is officially the longest hiatus I've taken from a thing before coming back to it. Had to decide if it was more rude to update after two years or never update again, but… well… here I am. Inspiration punched me in the face, so I finished it, the last seven chapters, all but the epilogue, and I should be able to update once a week at least, after edits. In other words, if there's anyone left who cares about these two, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"You're back."

"Surprise?" Korra didn't even try to inject fake cheer into the word. "How did you know it was me?"

She eyed the back of Kuvira's head through the small window. All sorts of outlandish thoughts chased each other through her mind, but she was able to reject them. Mostly. The longer she spent battling with a city full of angry, rebelling citizens, the more willing she was to believe Kuvira must be something more than a mere human—even an extraordinarily talented, metalbending one—to have managed what she had in the Earth Kingdom. Still, that didn't give her eyes on the back of her head, or the ability to sense human form through platinum-reinforced wooden floorboards.

"The guards come in pairs."

Ah. That would explain it. One set of footsteps.

"So… no other visitors?"

Kuvira made a dismissive noise. "I didn't think the Avatar made personal appearances to high-security prisoners just for small talk."

Korra crossed her arms and glared at Kuvira's back, not sure if she was more irritated by the comment or the fact that Kuvira hadn't even deigned to make eye contact with her to deliver it. "Would you throw me overboard if I did?"

Slowly, Kuvira stood and rounded the cot, until Korra could see the shadows under her eyes, darker and deeper than any time she'd seen her before.

"I have had two other visitors. Both assured me they would not come again. That leaves you." She stopped halfway across the cell. "And if I could throw you overboard, you wouldn't have come in the first place."

Korra frowned. "I'm not scared of you."

To her surprise, Kuvira let out a huff of air through her nose, a sound that might have been a laugh. "I never said you were, Avatar. I only meant you seem very attached to your… captive audience."

"I—That isn't—" Korra spluttered, then sighed. "Okay, look. I came to give you some news, not to bother you with my… political problems. This time. I just wanted to make sure you knew that Su is raising hell for the Earth Kingdom, just like you want—"

"—I know."

Surprised, Korra's words screeched to a halt. "You know?"

Kuivra turned until her profile was half swallowed in shadows. She looked—thin, Korra realized. More drawn in on herself with each visit. It had barely been a month since she'd seen her last, calmly dictating the future of the Empire she'd lost to the men and women who still ruled, but she seemed to have aged a year or more in that time. "She was one of my visitors."

"Oh." One of the two who wouldn't come again. No wonder Korra could hear something pained under Kuvira's quiet words; no wonder she seemed pinched and withdrawn. A visit from Su that ended like that… couldn't have been easy. "She didn't tell me."

"No, I don't suppose she would."

Silence stretched between them. Korra eyed the side of the platform where she knew her escape vessel waited, tempted to jump ship and leave. If Su had been here, her excuse for coming was gone. There was nothing else to be said.

But shutting up just because there wasn't anything worth saying had never been one of Korra's strong suits. As a rule, she'd rather stick her foot in her mouth any day.

"Who was the other one?"

Kuvira glanced up at her sharply. The silence stretched again, but Kuvira's shoulders finally relaxed with a low sigh. "Bataar."

Korra cringed. It wasn't a subtle expression, and she was relieved when it only rewarded her with that same little huff she couldn't quite label as laughter.

"It was a while ago. He came for… closure."

"Got any tips for that?" Korra blurted without thinking. When Kuvira's dark-eyed stare skewered her like a sudden curiosity, she flushed and backpedaled. "I'm sorry, none of my business, not what I meant to—"

"I didn't realize the Avatar had an engagement that nearly ended in homicide."

Korra felt her cheeks getting warmer. "Erm, no, uh… Not exactly." She rubbed her upper arm nervously. "And when you put it like that… really, I've got nothing to complain about."

"Yet here you are."

"Hey!" Korra protested. "I came here to talk about—"

"—the drafting conventions, the uprising, the protests. If you don't want to share, please, don't let me keep you."

After a pause, Korra let out a nervous laugh. "You don't want to know anyway." When Kuvira's only response was the continued weight of her silent stare, Korra realized before her mouth was even open she was going to tell her anyway. "I messed up. I—um… Misread some things? Between me and Asami. Asami Sato. We went on this trip together, then I'd be away for a few weeks, we'd get lunch when I came back in town, hang out after, have dinner… Then, two weeks back? She came all the way out to Air Temple Island to tell me we were breaking up."

A bemused, almost pained expression had taken over Kuvira's face, and it wasn't helping Korra feel less embarrassed.

"I didn't even realize we were dating!" She caught her hands halfway up in the air and yanked them back down again. Someone had given her a less-than-friendly tip that throwing her limbs around violently every time she got caught up in what she was saying actually made people more nervous around her than they already were, and she was trying to break the habit in the name of her _public image_. "I got this long, careful explanation about how _hard_ it is for Asami that I'm always traveling all over the five nations while she's practically married to Future Industries, how we just don't see each other enough, and before I even got to wrap my mind around the idea of us… together… you know? It was over."

Korra fingered the collar of her shirt, tugging at it restlessly. "And it um… didn't help when I said it, either. That I didn't know. She's… pretty upset with me."

When she looked up, she was treated to the odd sight of a former Great Uniter who seemed to be trying, with no small degree of difficulty, not to laugh.

"I didn't think I'd ever be saying this, Avatar—" she began as delicately as one could while fighting off a grin. "But this visit has dramatically improved my day."

Korra chuckled reluctantly. "Yeah, please. Laugh at my expense. Someone should, and it's a lot funnier when you aren't the one whose apparently-ex-girlfriend is threatening you at Equalizer-glove-point for leading her on all year. I have no clue what to do next."

The brief amusement that had sparked in Kuvira's eyes was gone as quickly as it had come, and the words that followed were low and serious. "Now that you do know, is she what you want?"

There was something strange about the phrasing of Kuvira's words, and it made Korra pause, stumbling over her reply. "No… No? I mean… Maybe? I—I'd never really thought about… girls, like that, you know? And there—um." Korra could feel herself getting warm again and wondered how she'd gotten here, to this floating prison in the middle of the sea, of all places, talking about her absolute mess of a love life with a woman who'd nearly killed her when, until now, she hadn't been able to tell anyone, not even Mako or Bolin. "There's maybe something there. But… Not Asami. Don't get me wrong, I love her, she's brilliant, she's my closest friend, the person who's meant the most to me in my whole adult life but I don't… No, I don't feel that way about her. And I think I kind of left her hanging."

"You can't always tell people what they want to hear." Kuvira's voice was soft. "Bataar wanted me to tell him I hadn't meant for him to die, that I knew he'd be saved. He wanted me to say that I'd loved him, even though he came here to tell me he'd met someone else, and was moving on." Kuvira came closer to the bars, and Korra found herself caught again, in the strange living coldness of Kuvira's stare, the eerie magnetic will her voice could call up at a moment's notice to freeze listeners where they stood, and pay close attention to her words. "If I'd said it, he would have come back. Even if it were the truth, that would have been cruel. And when it isn't…" Kuvira's hand rose and pushed the hair off her forehead, sending her loose braid swaying, long—longer than Korra had realized—and dark against her shoulder. "…sometimes you have to let people go."

"Let them go, or push them away?" Korra challenged softly.

Kuvira tilted her head, almost a nod, but not quite. "Mine needed the push. From what I know about the president of Future Industries… perhaps you can get away with a lighter touch."

The surprisingly personal advice prompted Korra to smile with genuine warmth, and Kuvira's face suddenly closed, her next words rough with frustration. Whether at herself or Korra, she didn't know.

"But I'm not the person to ask about salvaging friendships. I'm better at closure than…"

"Change?" she offered.

Kuvira scowled.

"You're not half bad at that, either." Korra fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, then sighed, resigning herself to sharing a few more personal details in the name of her determination to end this visit on a better note. "You gave me good advice, about the firebenders. I… well, I put Wu on it. People really _like_ him these days, though for the life of me I have no idea why. It was pretty fun dangling him off the balcony of the Future Industries penthouse to get him to agree. He wasn't interested, and I'm not sure if it was the threat of imminent death or the fact that he still has a weird crush on me, but he's been doing a good job. Between that and Jinora helping me figure out the balance problem that makes the vines so unstable—I mean, you could still blow us all up with your fancy equipment, but now at least waterbenders can stop or reverse a homemade explosion before it happens. We've held demonstrations all over, they do practice drills for it in schools, and people are feeling safer. Republic City's doing a lot better." Korra sighed. "Now, it's all eyes on the Earth Kingdom. And, honestly, that distraction might be helping, too. Look, I—I'm not trying to wear out my welcome. And I'm sorry, about Su. And Bataar. And maybe this is only makes things worse for you, but you've helped me out. A lot. And I really do appreciate that. You're still making a difference out there, and when you sign that constitution next week? You're gonna do it again." She shrugged. "Change history."

Kuvira was no longer meeting her eyes, face turned away, gaze lost somewhere in the darkness of the far wall. Korra could see her jaw was clenched, the skin at her throat taut, but without seeing her eyes, it was hard to guess how she felt about Korra's words.

This time, she took her cue from the silence, and left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **Author's Note:** I couldn't believe it when I got reviews right after posting the last chapter—I had no idea anyone had waited around two years to see more of this. Thank you!

* * *

"Is she finished yet?"

President Raiko paced the far side of the deck, his question addressed, it seemed, to anyone but Kuvira.

"She can speak for herself, you know."

Tenzin put his hand on Korra's arm. She shrugged him off, but bit her tongue. She and Raiko had been exchanging barbs the entire ride here, and Korra almost wished she hadn't gotten the official invitation this time, so she could have just come on her own.

No noise came from Kuvira's cell. The Firelord had handed her the final draft of the new constitution, and she'd been reading silently since. It had been a week since Korra's last visit, and she was twitchy, now, standing with Tenzin, Wu, Raiko, and her dad behind the guard line, stuck with a small cluster of nervous reporters scribbling frantically on their notepads—no cameras, no metal—unable to even peer through the window, to check in. Only Izumi stood by the cell, waiting to reclaim the page.

"How long does it take to read one—"

"—You would know if you had read it."

If the words weren't so calm and reserved, Korra would have thought she'd said them herself, but as it was, the gentle but firm reproach from the Firelord was somehow more satisfying. Probably a mix of Raiko's startled spluttering and the look on Tenzin's face.

Wu, on the other hand, looked bored, but at least he wasn't complaining. He'd gotten that out of his system on the boat—when Korra elbowed it out of him hard enough he almost went overboard.

She wasn't sure, really, why it felt so important that today be treated with some kind of dignity, but she was determined to make it happen anyway. This was a new start for the single largest nation on Earth, and if the last representative of the old imperial line and the president of the United Republic couldn't be bothered to treat it like more than an inconvenient lunch meeting—well. Korra had some choice words to say about that.

She'd said most of them already. Good thing Izumi was taking a turn.

Her casual slight seemed to have done the trick, and Raiko fell into a sulky silence as the minutes ticked by. Finally, pale fingers slide between the window slats and took the feathered pen from Izumi's waiting hand. Korra wasn't sure if she was imagining the faint scratch of her signature marking the page over the sounds of the sea, but after another few seconds, hand, pen, and paper reappeared.

"And it's law." Kuvira's voice rang cold and clear, and Korra felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Something had shifted in the air, in the energy flowing around and through them—an ending, maybe. Or a start.

Izumi reclaimed the constitution and crossed the deck. The other leaders gathered round, heads drawing close together, murmuring over the words and the future, drifting soberly back towards the ship, contemplative and withdrawn.

Korra lingered, knowing she couldn't stay, but wanting to say something. It didn't feel right at all, to be here and not to even see her.

"Can I just—"

A guard nodded as she sidled up to the cloth barrier they were beginning to roll up and take away, and she hopped over in a quick boost of air, crossing to the window. "Hey."

For a moment, she thought she'd be ignored, but after thirty seconds' silence, Kuvira's voice emerged from just beside the widow, out of sight, but only inches away. "Hey."

Korra caught herself smiling. "What'd you think?"

Slowly, Kuvira's face came into view, pensive and composed. "Imperfect, but with room to grow. It will make a fine template for nation-building."

There was something hesitant in Kuvira's cautious praise. After a glance over her shoulder to make sure she hadn't yet missed her ride, she decided to dig—at least a little. "But?"

"It's too lenient." The answer came quick, like she was already prepared for the question. "I warned Su not to let too much rest on the next election, but she wouldn't listen. I appreciate the setup, the added focus on the security and accessibility of freely casting a ballot… but this? What happened to revoking my credibility? All you'll elect is someone to act in my stead? With no term limit? This isn't going to sever my name from the Earth kingdom. This—"

"They're waiting for you."

Korra jumped, and could have sworn she saw Kuvira startle, too. Neither had heard the Firelord approach.

She glanced guiltily back towards the boat. "I'm sorry, I'll be right there."

Izumi inclined her head. "Ah, very good, Avatar. But I wasn't addressing you." She stepped closer, hands clasped at her waist. She wasn't a physically imposing woman, slim and bespectacled and barely as tall as the Avatar, but Korra had always felt a little bit small in the presence of Lord Zuko's daughter, on the few occasions they'd met. "I share your concerns, Uniter."

Korra blinked, surprised to hear the title on Izumi's lips. The two had locked eyes, and Korra tried not to move her head too much as she glanced back and forth between them.

"The drafting convention was no subtle display. Your former captain had three stipulations, and with the military backing them, there was no compromise. The constitution would call for an 'interim president' in the advent of an election impossible to uphold. There would be no term limit, only the potential for citizens to call a referendum for recall. These terms are in place with the expectation of your release. They're waiting for you."

This time, Korra understood the words all too well.

"This isn't what I asked for." Kuvira sounded pained.

"Of that, I am aware. And yet you signed without protest." She tilted her head, stare pointed and stern. "I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, Uniter. That you know your release is an untenable prospect. I do not, however, believe your people feel the same. And so, the question remains— What are we to do about it?"

Korra turned quickly to the window, expecting an answer, but it seemed Kuvira and the Firelord were on the same page when it came to rhetorical questions, because Kuvira was silent, and by the time Korra looked back, Izumi was halfway to the gangway without so much as a parting word.

Korra cast one last glance into Kuvira's cell. This wasn't the first she'd heard of it, the idea that this whole new Earth Kingdom—a democratic Kingdom, a Kingdom in name alone, out of respect for history and a rejection of the burden of "Empire"—this new ruler, this new constitution… were nothing more than pieces of a grand design to allow Kuvira to return and reclaim her rightful place. She hadn't paid the rumors much attention; after all, she'd heard herself when Kuvira had proposed this whole plan specifically to set aside that prospect for good.

But the way Firelord Izumi had spoken to her today… the implication in her choice to call Kuvira by her old title, not by her name… Maybe she was wrong, but Korra couldn't help but think that sounded an awful lot like an implication that, somehow, despite the signed constitution and the cell wall between them, the Firelord still considered her something of an equal.

A sound slipped between the window slats, the rasping whisper of autumn leaves sliding along the paved streets of Republic City, and Korra realized Kuvira was laughing.

It was a bitter, joyless sound, and Korra wondered, then—given the chance, handed the key, escorted to her waiting throne—would she take it? Would she want it?


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

* * *

Korra paced the length of the deck behind the guard station for nearly half an hour before approaching Kuvira's cell. This time, it wasn't a matter of not knowing why she'd come or worrying over what it might say about her; this time, there were no two ways about it. She shouldn't be here. In fact, several people had expressly forbidden it, on several occasions over the last two months, and she had really tried to listen. Especially to Tenzin, to Lin. But this was politics. Messy, dirty, no-easy-answers politics, and Korra was the first to admit she had always been… kind of terrible, really. At politics. And between Tenzin's aggravating calm and Lin's still more aggravating _I'll handle this personally before I let you get any more mixed up in it_ attitude, Korra was running out of people to go to for advice.

"I can hear you, Avatar."

Korra tried not to feel too relieved when Kuvira's voice caught her mid-step. Now she _had_ to go over, right? Sure, she'd already snuck out her boat in the middle of the night, silently knocked out the guard on duty and took up his paces so the one in the guardhouse wouldn't get suspicious, had done everything in her power to make sure no one would know she was here, but she hadn't actually _talked_ to her about anything.

Not until she'd been summoned.

"I'm sorry." Had she been apologizing more? On this deck, in this particular stretch of open ocean, to this darkened window… What was it about a caged Kuvira that made her so cautious, so concerned? "I—I'm really not supposed to be here."

"You sound tired."

Kuvira's voice was low and surprisingly gentle. Her cell was black as pitch under the overcast, starless sky, so Korra could only imagine her expression, where she stood, how much further she'd drawn in on herself in the two months since she'd seen her last.

"I am," Korra admitted. "And I didn't know where else to go."

The thought of the words she'd have to say sat heavy on her tongue, crushing it against the floor of her mouth. She hardly knew where to begin.

"What's happening out there?"

Kuvira's question was soft, reserved. Korra could hear a hesitance in it, like she was wishing away her curiosity, but it wouldn't quite leave.

"I can tell from the way the guards are acting something's not right. But I haven't had a visitor in sixty days."

Korra caught another apology before it could sneak out of her. Apologies were easy, but they weren't what Kuvira wanted or deserved.

"You were right. You and the Firelord. We never should have let the military be involved in drafting the constitution." Korra cast a hesitant glance over her shoulder towards the guardhouse, but saw no sign of disturbance or movement. She curled her hand in a quick half-circle to sprout a small flame in her palm: She needed to see Kuvira's face while she said what came next. She found her at the window, only a foot between them, blinking in the sudden dim light.

She was right. Seeing her made something loosen in her chest, the something she didn't want to admit was fear, the something that had been strangling her words. It was harder to tell by firelight how pale and slim Kuvira was, how much her exhaustion mirrored Korra's own—easier to imagine her cold green eyes staring out over a crowd of cheering people, carefully bending the world to her will.

"I think there's going to be a war."

The only reaction Korra could see was Kuvira's eyes widening a fraction of an inch, and that, somehow, was comforting, too.

"Two months ago—"

"—The election."

"Yes. And they elected… a loyalist. General Xin. By… Well, lets just say it wasn't even close. And this time? No tempering, no interference. It was a fair election. In the last two months, Interim President Xin has dedicated every diplomat, every legal scholar, pretty much whoever he can get his hands on, to finding out how to get you released. They claim you signed the constitution under duress, or didn't sign it at all. They've tried bargaining with the United Republic, having Xin stand against every council initiative unless your freedom was on the table, claiming you were denied trial under Earth Kingdom law… There are huge demonstrations in the streets." Korra looked down, scuffing her foot against the floorboards. "Since you… left…" She winced at the poor choice of words. "…the Earth Kingdom has really felt the strain. With no stable legal system, crime has been at record highs. Resources were… stolen. By private interests in the Fire Nation, by unaligned bandits… Even, it looks like, by people pretty high up in the Republic City Business Council, who claim they earned the right to Earth Kingdom crops and precious metals in certain territories when… when I took you down. Even people in places where _your_ army almost left everyone to starve are… starting to think those were better days."

When Korra finally looked up, she found the fingers of Kuvira's right hand clenched around the windowsill, her stare unfocused, jaw tight with cold fury. "I knew Raiko would take advantage of this. Republic City has had no respect for Earth Kingdom sovereignty since Avatar Aang—"

"—I know," Korra cut in, a little alarmed, but not all too surprised, to hear edge of Kuvira's fierce nationalism creeping back into her words. She didn't want it to go there, didn't want to be reminded why Kuvira had been locked up here in the first place, but if there was any time when the reaction was warranted, it was probably now, hearing that the people whose lives she had once been responsible for had been left to starve in her absence. "And I'm sorry. I've been trying—that's why I—that's where I've been, um. These past two months. Half of it ensuring food and supplies arrived where it was needed most, enlisting the help of the Air Nation again, and half of it trying… badly, sorry… to get Raiko to give up his 'spoils of war.'"

"But instead, you find yourself on the brink of another one."

At Kuvira's cold, rasping reminder of the point of all this, Korra turned on her heel and slumped back against the wood beside the window, closing her fist on the flame and pressing her palms against the backs of her eyes. "They'll declare war next week. First, on Republic City. Then, on all the other nations, for 'the joint illegal imprisonment of their rightful head of state.'"

A faint sensation on her elbow made her jump. She realized Kuvira's fingers had slipped between the bars, just barely reaching the only part of her body close enough to touch.

"Let me speak to my people, Korra. I know I can make them stand down."

Korra froze. It was still rare, in all the times she'd visited, that Kuvira called her by her name. She pulled away, but she could still feel the phantom press of Kuvira's fingertips against her skin, like she'd been branded a traitor, or touched by a god.

"What are you even suggesting?" Her voice was louder than she'd intended, and she winced, glancing nervously back towards the guard station.

"The power in all of this is in the shadows. No one has seen me in over a year. Not one Earth Kingdom citizen saw me sign that constitution."

"Wu—"

"—is a citizen of the United Republic. Surely you knew that."

"I—I didn't," Korra admitted. "That's… wow. That's really messed up."

Kuvira's only response was silence. Finally, Korra heard her draw in a slow, deep breath.

"Put me up on a dais. Drag me there in platinum chains if you have to. But give me a microphone, broadcast it on the radio, put it on a mover-screen. Make them hear it in a way they have to believe, that I am _never_ going to take back the throne. That I signed that constitution of my own volition. That there is no use in focusing on vengeance. That they'll have to reclaim their strength on their own. Without… a figurehead."

Korra had drifted closer to the window again, a hand against the slats just below, and Kuvira's fingers found hers, squeezing them tightly against the wood.

"Let me help my kingdom heal."

"No one is going to trust you enough to let that happen." She tried to make her words firm, make them ring with finality, but she didn't pull away this time, and a hint of the temptation she felt must have snuck through anyway, because Kuvira tugged at Korra's fingers until they slid closer to the bars and she could grip them fully, emphasizing her next words with the firm, steady pressure of a gesture that was hard to be much of anything with the platinum between them, but which felt imploring all the same.

"Did you know there are volcanos under the ocean, here? Thousands of meters down, buried beneath water so cold it might as well be ice—but this isn't just a mountain. You've set me over something restless. We float directly over the tallest peak every two weeks, without fail. Bubbles have been rising to the surface. Can you imagine what they carry up from the bottom of the Eastern Sea?"

Kuvira's voice sent chills racing down her spine. "Earth," Korra breathed.

"Earth," Kuvira echoed. "It doesn't matter how many guards you set here, how thoroughly your earthbenders cleanse anyone intending to set foot on my prison: no free bender will sense the presence of a grain of silt the way I can in this cage, with nothing to distract me, nothing beneath my feet but hard, unfeeling wood and an eternity of empty ocean."

"You could have gotten free." Goosebumps were rising on her shoulders, and it had nothing to do with the night air. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'd have thought that would be obvious." Kuvira released her fingers, and Korra felt herself snap back into her body like an elastic band. "You came here to ask for my help in stopping a war. I—Thank you. For trusting me enough to even ask. I'm trying…" She trailed off with a huff, as though frustrated that she couldn't find the perfect words with her usual ease. "I'm asking you to trust me a little further. You could leave now and tell the council they need to move my prison, to map out the oceans for the deepest trench where no lava has run for a thousand years. Or, you could take what I said for what it was: the proof that, when I could have chosen otherwise, I waited. I agreed to whatever punishment you saw fit, the day we opened the spirit portal. And I've never once complained. Throw me back in after, just… please."

Korra's eyes widened, unseen.

"Trust me this far. Give me a chance to fix this."

Korra's breathing sounded loud and uneven in her ears. Kuvira was still and silent in the wake of her last plea, and Korra wasn't sure what to say. What had she been expecting, that Kuvira would have some esoteric, philosophic advice to ease tensions already past the point of explosion? No, she'd expected Kuvira would have _something_ , she always did. And Korra had yet to like one of Kuvira's plans the first time she'd heard it, but so far…

She'd been right. Too many times to discount her now.

Oh, Tenzin was going to kill her.

"No one can know this was your idea," Korra said at last. "I… um… I might have accidentally admitted to Tenzin I'd been coming out here… and I haven't been chewed out that bad since I was a kid. He thinks—everybody thinks—you're trying to manipulate me." She tried to brush off her words with a nervous laugh, but it still sounded a bit like a question.

"Is that what you think?" Kuvira's voice was light, amused.

"I don't know what to think," Korra admitted. "But I do think you know the Earth Kingdom better than anyone else alive right now. And I don't think you want to be the… the eternal emperor, or whatever. I don't think you have a big plan that all depended on me showing up at your jail cell once every couple months and complaining about my relationship problems and job stress. I think you took the whole 'Great Uniter' thing really seriously, and if there's ever a time we needed that, it's now." Korra chewed her lip. "Look, I'll see what I can do. For the past few weeks, my approval ratings have been higher than Raiko's—I think I have you to thank for that, actually. So if I ask them to let you give a speech… No guarantees, but maybe."

"That's all I'm asking for."

Already lost in thought about where to go next, who to talk to first, Korra took five steps across the deck before spinning back towards her. "Not a word about this, okay? I was never here."

She could almost hear Kuvira's wry smile in her reply. "My lips are sealed, Avatar."

When Korra took another step and nearly tripped over the slumped guard, she lurched back one more time. "And, um… when this guy wakes up…"

"He slipped, I'm sure," came Kuvira's dry murmur.

Korra let out the last of her nerves in a quiet laugh. "I owe you one."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

* * *

"I'm not going to say this."

The page flew through the window, crumpled almost unrecognizably, and drifted to the deck.

Korra bent and retrieved it, smoothing out the creases against the front of her ceremonial fur. It was a little too soon into the warm end of autumn for this level of water tribe regalia, but the occasion demanded it, which meant Korra was wearing it, which meant she was sweaty, stuffy, and irritated. "They're just… words, Kuvira. This was the best I could do."

"That constitution you had me sign?"

"Hey, that was _your—_ "

"—Those were 'just words,' too. And look where that got us."

Korra swallowed down the bulk of her annoyance and let out the rest in a groan. "Yeah. Yeah, okay, I—I know this isn't exactly what you wanted—"

"Answer one thing for me, Avatar. Would you read those words if you were me?"

"Yes!" she insisted. "I'd say whatever I had to to stop the war!"

"You would thank a man who believes I'm a danger to the citizens of my own country? A man who has been robbing us blind for the past year? Who has allowed and _encouraged_ the pillaging of my land by Republic City's corporate overlords while I've dedicated myself to peace?"

Korra hung her head. "You don't have to mean it, Kuvira. You just have to say it."

"Heed my words, Avatar. If I go up there today and say this, the war will go on. These are not my words. My citizens would never believe I would say this willingly."

"They aren't _your_ citizens. It's not _your_ land!" Korra parried. "That's the point! This is bigger than you! Maybe this was a mistake."

It had been a month since her last visit, and Kuvira looked… good. Her eyes burned with the intensity of her hatred for the words Raiko's speechwriters had drafted for her to read. Her hair was neatly braided into a crisp, strict row, and she stood by the window like a soldier, feet planted shoulder-width apart, spine straight, jaw squared, the spitting image of strength and control. Besides the fragile white of her skin, preternaturally pale after more than a year in a sunless box, no sign remained of the tired, shrinking figure she had been fading into during her time in prison. With the prospect of opening her door within the hour looming, Kuvira's words made Korra nervous. She spoke of the new Earth Kingdom as she had her empire, like something she owned, and she sounded every bit the Great Uniter. _Well, that's what I asked for._

"I offered you a way out of this, but you have to take it. This?" Kuvira's fingers snatched back the crumpled speech. "Isn't it. You can't rewrite my intentions and have me grovel to Raiko and expect it to work. Korra—"

Korra looked away. Something about her name on Kuvira's lips was like the perfect lever to get her guard down, and this was too important of a moment to be swayed by the imitation of intimacy in that earnest, persuasive voice.

"—I believe in this peace. I want the same things you do. I want the people who raised me, trusted me, believed in me, to be safe. And I'm in the position to give that to us _._ But you have to take me at my word, and let me speak."

"Look—" Korra turned back, eyes pleading. "—I get it, but I'm taking too many risks for you already! Can't you just… make it sound real? Somehow? This one isn't up to me. Raiko's men will have the microphone out of your hands faster than it will take you to say one word that isn't on that piece of paper."

Korra watched as Kuvira closed her eyes and took a slow breath in through her nose. When she opened them again, she stared down at the paper in her hand, then pulled it back into her cell. "What if all I'm asking for is one word."

"What?"

"One word, Avatar. Can you give me that?"

"I—I guess? I mean, yeah. Sure. I was exaggerating at least a little bit. I don't think anyone actually _memorized_ the thing." She shrugged. "Except whoever wrote it, and he's probably not even important enough to be there."

A thin smile flickered over Kuvira's lips. "In that case, bring on the shackles. Let's go stop a war."

The flash of relief Korra felt at the sudden submission didn't last. Uneasiness slicked down her spine like swamp water, and she didn't quite manage to return Kuvira's smile. Still, she'd agreed to the speech, so Korra tried to shake off her rising apprehension. This was what she came for. _What's the worst damage one word can do, anyway._

/

The boat ride was a quiet affair. Kuvira, hands, feet, and neck locked in platinum manacles connected by platinum chains so short she could barely move, sat at the rail, attached to her seat by yet another chain, eyes closed, face turned up towards the sun. Korra sat on the other side of the deck with Lin, who was twitchy and watching Kuvira like she expected her to hurl herself overboard at any minute, chains be damned.

"I still don't like this. I can't believe you talked Tenzin into it."

Remembering the conversation they'd had, Korra could hardly believe it either. But somewhere between "Tenzin, I have a plan, and you're not going to like it," and "I know, I shouldn't, and you're probably right, so I'm staying away, but, Tenzin, I—I trust her," he'd given her that look of his that said he knew she wasn't telling him something, but that he thought it was something he probably didn't want to know, and he was making a conscious decision to put aside his reservations and trust her judgement anyway.

Korra wished she knew what she wasn't telling him, too. It wasn't just the secret of the midnight visit, not just the true origin of this last-ditch plan… something made Tenzin believe her, and that made her uneasy, too. It was hard to feel good about everyone trusting her judgement when she wasn't even sure how she'd gotten to trust in the first place.

But she had, and Tenzin seemed to think that was good enough, and after a month of tense diplomatic arguments, tense security arguments, and tense backs-and-forths between looking like it just might happen and looking like there was no way it hell it would that had Korra itching to come back to Kuvira's prison and beg her for what to do next, he had swayed the council. All it took was giving in to Raiko's demand for a pre-written speech.

The troops amassing at the western border probably hadn't hurt, either.

Lin was still looking at her like she expected a reply, and Korra wasn't sure what to give her. Just admitting she couldn't believe it either didn't feel like enough, and she couldn't say anything as placating as "Kuvira changed"—that wouldn't be true. Korra just… saw her differently, now. Understood how someone could get from the war for peace to a place where peace felt impossible without war. Understood how seeing war, confronting war, having your eyes pried open in the aftermath… How that could make peace seem worth trying for again. Real peace. At whatever cost.

"We have to try, don't we?" she said instead. "There's too much at stake not to, and she can see that. Same as you and me."

Lin gave her a look she couldn't interpret. She shrugged her shoulders back and rested her elbows on the rail with a clink of metal arm guards, staring down at her in contemplative silence. "You've come a long way, kid," she finally said.

Korra didn't reply. It was kind of nice, really, that Lin still called her that, like there was some part of her that was still young, idealistic, full of energy and ready to face the world with her fists up and her friends beside her, but she didn't really feel like that these days. Hadn't felt like that in a while.

She just felt… tired.

/

After transferring to an airship at the Southern Port, the last leg of the journey to Ba Sing Se went quickly. Kuvira travelled in its belly, fully immobilized aboard the metal ship, so Korra didn't see her again until she was standing on the right side of the wide wooden stage that had been erected just for the occasion in the shadow of the Inner Wall, watching beside the other world leaders as Kuvira was helped roughly up the stairs by two of Raiko's guards, her chains too short for the treads. Someone had given her Earth Kingdom clothing—ceremonial, but without the traditional metallic trappings that would mark it as military, as a uniform.

Between the hastily constructed stage and the lingering haze of smoke and smog that hovered over the Lower Ring, it felt like a bit of a snub—ahistoric, asymbolic, as far removed from the old palace as any point in the city. And yet, it was perfect: there would have been no other space besides this wide, sandy road that could accommodate...

Korra's eyes swept the expanse again. The crowd amassed for the occasion might as well have been the whole city, an ocean of beige and green as far as the eye could see, eerily still and silent besides the faint whisper of cloth and sand blowing in the breeze. When Kuvira came into view at the top of the stairs, a murmur traveled the length of the sea of watchers, low and restless. The back of Korra's neck buzzed, every hair standing on end.

She took the last steps alone as the guards fell into place just behind her, the jarring clank of metal against metal punctuating every footfall. This close, Korra could see the speech clutched in white knuckles, could watch every link of chain between her wrists drag at the lip of the podium as she smoothed the crumpled paper against its surface.

"Thank you, all, for joining us here today."

There was no static between her voice and the microphone that captured it, no squeak of resisting electricity, no hesitance in the clear, crisp words. Korra recognized the first line on the page for what it was: a platitude, an intentional distancing of Kuvira from her singular role in this, some strange conception of an "us" that included anyone other than the long-absent figure of their once-great Uniter. Despite the row of world leaders on either side of the stage, Kuvira was very much alone.

"As I'm sure you know, I stand before you now as your elected leader, not as the dictator I once was."

It was impressive, really, Korra thought. That she didn't hesitate over the harsh words.

"But I stand before you as a leader who cannot serve. The crimes I committed against the United Republic will be neither forgiven nor forgotten, not even in the name of our new democracy."

Korra couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling Kuvira's careful oratory was straying in small ways from the script she'd been assigned, smoothing over unwieldy phrases, crafting a more skilled speech than had been given to her, but not so drastically that suspicions would be raised. Korra suspected that was her fault, that she'd invited as much, when she told her no one would notice a change here or there, but she also suspected that when it came time for Kuvira's "one word," it wouldn't be this subtle.

"That is why I signed your new constitution. Do not doubt that it is I who stands before you today, in my own flesh, of my own will. I support this new nation. I applaud you, every one of you, who cast your ballot in our first election. And I condemn anyone who dared make you feel you had no choice, that my name was the only one allowed to you. It was never my intention to rule again."

Whispers were spreading through the crowd, low and snake-like along the ground, so as not to disturb the words echoing over their heads.

"So I celebrate, now, that you have chosen a new leader, and urge you to elect General Xin in full. Do not wait for me. Do not waste the opportunity you have been given to rebuild. And above all, do not go to war in my name. I hold no grudge against the United Republic for the role they have played in ensuring your safety and guarding me as I carry out my sentence. My imprisonment is no less than I deserve."

Korra leaned in. It had arrived, the required thanks, the symbolic, undignified bow to President Raiko's demands.

"In fact, I'm grateful. In the sixteen months since I last stood at the head of our army, I've seen a great deal of change. I've seen the work of those who lead without an army, who shape the future without war."

Korra frowned. She didn't remember Raiko's demanded praise being quite so… eloquent, hadn't imagined the delivery would sound quite so sincere.

"I've seen a great struggle for peace in the face of never-ending adversity, seen dedication to finding it even after failure, even when violence continues to win the most difficult battles. I've seen the constant trials and tribulations of reconciling the differences between our five nations, of healing the wounds I—and others both before and after me—have left on Earth Kingdom soil."

Now, Korra could see Raiko frowning, too. On the far side of the stage, he stepped closer to Lin, whispering in her ear.

 _Uh-oh._

Korra rose on tip-toes, staring at the side of Lin's head with all the intensity she could muster. To her surprise, Lin almost immediately glanced her way. Raiko leaned back, and Lin reached for the radio at her belt, but Korra widened her eyes, pleading, biting her lip and shaking her head. Lin frowned.

" _Please,"_ Korra mouthed, and watched the strap around the radio click shut again.

Lin held up one finger in front of her chest, and Korra understood the message. _She gets one minute._

"So I stand here today in the hope you will remember why we fought, to remember all you have achieved in the last year without me, and to express my gratitude to the one who reminds me why we seek peace, even when it seems our divided nation may never find a place of balance in the world."

Kuvira's stare suddenly skewered her where she stood, and Korra felt the blow like a charge of purple lightning.

"Avatar Korra, thank—"

Her voice cut out. Her eyes went wide. One shoulder rolled back, and a blur of silver streaked past her ear as she spun in a razor-sharp turn away from the microphone. The chains clattered and unbalanced her, and she fell onto her side as Korra took a jerky step forward, but as the sharp, metal object clattered to the floor of the stage behind her, Lin was already moving, her cables streaking out into the crowd, lancing onto the cloak of the man who'd just made an attempt on Kuvira's life.

The crowd was panicking, devolving into a frenzied mass of movement and screams, and Korra watched the man shake free of his cloak before Lin could reel him towards her. Barely thinking, Korra leapt into the fray, frantically slamming into the street and raising a wall of earth in his path— "Not so fast!" —then watching in detached horror as two soldiers in the uniform of Earth Kingdom soldiers raised their arms in the same motion she'd just made, impaling the would-be-assassin on two spires of stone.

His head slumped against his chest and the pillar of rock protruding through it, dead.

Korra froze, then jerked herself away from the gruesome corpse, spinning back towards the stage in time to see Kuvira struggling to her feet as four more green-clad military figures from the crowd pushed through Lin's officers on the steps. Before they—or Lin, or Raiko's guards, or anyone else—could reach her, Korra watched in stunned disbelief as center stage collapsed in a great explosion of stone, fire, and smoke.

/

Chaos. There was no other word for the scene as Korra staggered back up the stairs towards the six inches remaining at the front of the platform. The crowd was trying its best to scatter, but there were simply too many people, a riot of limbs and screams and the dangerous press of frantic bodies on all sides. At either edge of the half-demolished stage, Korra could hear the voices of Tenzin, Wu, her father, Raiko—coughing and calling out to each other or their guards. Raiko's voice was bellowing in fury, screaming about conspiracy, an escape plan, a distraction.

 _Did he not see her almost lose her head?_

Lin stood a few feet away, staring, like Korra, into the pit that had opened up beneath them. It was a crush of rubble and stripes of smooth gray Korra recognized as the tracks of cooling lava. Could Kuvira have survived the explosion, let alone the fall?

Dead or alive, she was nowhere in sight.

"You were right." Korra's words were just loud enough to draw Lin's sharp gaze towards her. "I messed up."

Lin scowled. "Wake up, Avatar. Regret this later. Right now, you need to do something."

"Do what?" Korra spluttered, gesturing down at the pit.

"Not that." Lin jerked a thumb back towards the crowd. " _Them."_

In a daze, Korra turned. Her eyes immediately locked on to the dead man skewered in the middle of the street and her throat closed, but in another second, she saw the continued danger, the threat of trampling, the blind panic spreading out through the crowd like spirit vines, ready to rip the city apart.

There, just beside her, the microphone had survived the blast, teetering precariously at the edge of the pit with half its base resting on thin air.

Korra grabbed it, and a piercing shriek of feedback blasted through the air.

Everything froze.

When the sound died, Korra gulped. A thousand eyes turned her way, and all she wanted to do was dive into the pit behind her and dig until she could yank Kuvira's probably mangled body up to finish whatever she'd been saying to pacify this angry city, to rewind the last five minutes and somehow stop this before it could begin… to hear the end of those eerily sincere words of thanks Korra had never suspected she would receive.

But Kuvira wasn't here, and she had to say something.

"Please, don't panic." If stillness hadn't already returned, Korra wasn't sure her words would have made a difference, but as it was, panic seemed to be fading. She glanced down at the body. Two of Lin's officers were moving around it, carefully raising stone walls to block it off from view. "This seems to have been… a… an isolated attack." Was it? She had no idea, but no one else was dropping dead just yet. "I can assure you I—we're going to do everything we can to get to the bottom of this. Until we do, all I can ask is…"

A scrap of paper drifted down beside her, one end charred and smoking, but immediately recognizable as Kuvira's crumpled speech. Korra reached out with a tendril of air and reeled it into her hand, blinking blindly until the words "Thank you, President Raiko" crystalized on the page.

 _Let's go stop a war._ She could hear Kuvira in her head like she was standing right beside her, could see her sitting quietly on the ship, drinking in sunlight like it was the only thing she'd missed in the world, being lifted and prodded up the stairs like an uncooperative circus animal, despite her tamers being the ones preventing her from performing her tricks. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"Kuvira didn't fight back today because she believed in this peace." If Korra believed it, was it enough to make it true? "Not because she was part of some conspiracy to free herself. Kuvira didn't know… couldn't have known friend from foe. She stood back, let us… let us neutralize the threat, and we failed. We failed to protect her. But I won't let anyone turn this into another lie to start a war."

Raiko had come closer through the smoke, and Korra could see him out of the corner of her eye, glasses askew, hair ashen with stone dust, face nearly purple with rage. Lin reached out a hand and caught his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

"She deserves better than that. You all deserve better than that. And in her name, I promise I will do everything in my power to stop _any_ harm from coming to the people of the Earth Kingdom. The looting will stop. The famine will stop. Even if that means I—Even if I have to stand against the United Republic alone. Kuvira—" The name stuck in her throat, so quiet the microphone couldn't pick it up, and Korra had to swallow back a sudden rise of bile at the image of dark hair disappearing in a wave of molten magma that flashed behind her eyes. "The Great Uniter—" she pressed instead, intentional and clear, "—just reminded us to seek peace. I stand by that. As your Avatar, I swear if—if those were her last words… they will be honored."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

* * *

The pit had turned up nothing. The dead body in the street had turned up nothing. The men in Earth Kingdom military uniforms who had charged the stage—despite Lin's harshest questioning—had turned up nothing.

Korra wasn't sure she'd slept at all in the past seven days.

Night one, she was scrambling, following Chief Beifong like a lost puppy as she scoured the earth—above, below, within—for a means of escape, a tunnel… or a body. Night two, she was searching on her own, trying to pretend there was some logic as she wandered the streets of Ba Sing Se, confronted in turn by citizens who thought she'd arraigned a murder, and those who thought she'd assisted an escape. Night three, she may or may not have been back in Republic City, pinning a president to a wall by the throat and threatening to feed him dirt for his midnight snack if he didn't prosecute the men who'd been taking advantage of the weakened Earth Kingdom to rob them blind in the carefully sanctioned way only businessmen can.

Lin had given her the fourth night in lockup for that. It was the most sleep she'd gotten all week.

She couldn't stay in the city. She felt especially powerless there, watching the crowds of people who didn't much care what was happening at their eastern border going about their business like nothing had changed, like their Avatar hadn't probably arranged the death of the woman who had nearly killed them all, and the one who had saved more lives through good advice alone in the past year than any of them could ever realize.

So she went back to Ba Sing Se and snooped around, searching with increasing desperation for any sign that this had been a masterful escape, a final coup, anything other than a gruesome death by vaporization she wouldn't put it past Raiko to have arraigned himself for the sheer revenge. But she had been away for too much of Kuvira's rise to power—she didn't know who to talk to, what to listen for, who to trust.

But she had to try anyway. The alternative was unthinkable.

That's how she'd ended up here, staying in a hole in the wall inn named Hole in the Wall, built, not in the second great hole in the wall of the city, the one left by the White Lotus seventy-five years ago, but at the point along the Inner Wall they would have gotten to if they walked in a straight line through the farmland and opened up another one. Whoever had sanctioned the new hole clearly had poor taste. It was tiny, and tacky, and cheap, but Korra felt like this was where she needed to be, not three blocks from the crime scene, half inside the city, half out.

Limbo.

After another two sleepless nights, she was drained, half-delirious, and the ache behind her ribs was beginning to win the argument that said she was wasting hope. When a voice outside her door called " _Avatar?"_ she thought she must have passed out at her desk.

But the knocking that followed was too real to be ignored.

She stumbled towards the door in a daze, tripped over her own feet, and nearly ripped it off the hinges when she got there. The sight on the other side punched her right in the gut, forcing all the air out of her lungs.

"Kuvira," she breathed in the name, staring, blank-faced and stunned, at wild, unkempt black hair, dark circles under tired eyes, red-raw wrists still gripped and pinched together by tight by platinum manacles, those at her feet severed in the middle, but not removed.

Kuvira swayed forward. Korra reached out, caught her by the shoulders, dragged her over the threshold—and kissed her.

It was graceless, nearly bruising, chains digging into her collarbones and clattering against the floor; and it tasted like salt and sand and chapped lips, but Kuvira's mouth was warm and yielding, and her hand gripped the side of Korra's throat with surprising strength, not pushing her away, but pulling her closer; and her breath came hot and fast through her nose, searing Korra's upper lip with a guarantee that she was really here, really alive, really... Kissing her.

 _Oh god. I'm kissing Kuvira._

She yanked back like she'd been burned. "Oh god, I am _so_ sorry, I don't know why I did that!" She frantically scuttled backwards until she tripped over a bad floorboard and had to stop or fall. "I didn't mean to—I just thought, I thought you might be dead, or—or hiding, or… I thought I was never going to—You must be dead on your feet! And… starving! I am so, so sorry. Can I get you, um… food?"

Kuvira's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were still a little wide with something like surprise, but there was an amused smile beginning to quirk up one side of her mouth. "Korra."

Korra shut up.

"Please, stop apologizing and just… listen to me. I thought it would be best if I came to you first." The rasp in her voice was more pronounced, like the words were painful leaving her throat. "Before you bring me back to prison, before anyone else gets involved, let me explain. And… water, please. Water would be… much appreciated." She sat heavily on the single chair in the small half-kitchen, half-bedroom, and Korra tried not to think too hard about what article of clothing she'd flung over the back of it while getting undressed last night.

"Water, of course, yes." Korra turned, tripped over a table leg, and grabbed an only lightly dusty cup from the cabinet behind her, bending water from the sink across the room instead of walking there and risking falling flat on her ass on the way. Her face felt like it was on fire. She couldn't meet Kuvira's eyes. But her brain hadn't fully caught up to what she'd done, yet, and she kind of hoped it would stay that way.

When she handed over the water, Kuvira took it carefully in both hands. She drank slowly, small sips at first, until she had finished half the glass. Her wrists fell back in her lap, chains clattering indelicately.

Korra wished she had the key.

She didn't want to think too hard about why her first instinct was setting her free, either.

"How did you find me?" she asked instead, staring intently at Kuvira's red wrists, her dust-caked shoes, the hem of her fraying green robes, anywhere but her eyes.

"The whole city knows where you are, Avatar. I just had to ask… someone I trusted."

"What happened to you? Who attacked you? Or… rescued you? What happened?"

Kuvira sighed, twisting the glass in her hands. "Both, I'm afraid. A faction of my military command was behind the explosion, though I can assure you I was not involved. It was nothing more than a distraction. They pulled me away in the smoke, and took advantage of the chaos to get me through the wall and into the desert before anyone else could get near us. I don't know who the first assassin was, in the crowd, but he wasn't the last. All week I've been—" A shiver racked her frame, and she rolled her shoulders back, staring up at the ceiling. She took two deep breaths, then continued. "—passed back and forth between would-be killers, ransomers, and old friends. In the end, I gave up trying to learn who was who. Once my—once one of my soldiers had cut his way through the ankle-chain, I fought off both, as best I could."

Korra found her eyes drawn back to Kuvira's face despite herself, and found a faint smile on her lips.

"At least my bending hasn't gotten rusty in the past year."

The words sparked a vision of flashing silver. Korra could picture only too clearly the quick flicks of her fingers and turns of her wrists in the chains that had nearly removed the skin there with the intensity of her movement, the metal flying at her command, earth rolling beneath her feet as she fought off soldiers and mercenaries alike.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"Why not become a fugitive, you mean?" Kuvira shook her head, loose strands of hair swaying in front of her eyes. "Plot my way back into power, hidden from justice—drag the entire Kingdom with me down into hell?" Her voice cracked, and she lifted the glass again, taking another drink. "No. I might survive it. I might even win. But my people would suffer. I came here to stop a war, not to start a new one." She turned the glass once in her palm, and it caught the light, sending tiny rainbows skittering across the floor. "My moment has passed. I think even my most loyal men understand that now."

She extended her wrists. "I'm turning myself in to the Avatar." She inclined her head. "I hope she'll be lenient in judging my… transgression."

"Transgression!" Korra spluttered. "You didn't do anything wrong! You almost died!"

"And that's why I came to you," Kuvira said softly. "There are few others who would take me at my word."

Korra's shoulders fell. "You're right. Of course." She pulled her lips between her teeth, finding another grain of sand.

 _I kissed her. I kissed Kuvira._ _Why did I_ do _that? I can't think about it now!_

Kuvira's head remained bowed, still patiently awaiting her judgement.

 _I have to say something! But... I really kissed her. I can't take it back. How long have I wanted to..._

Korra closed her eyes, trying to pull her sleepless, scattered brain back to the matter at hand, the unasked question she had to answer. "I—I don't want to put you back in prison," she admitted at last, voice even quieter than Kuvira's.

The Great Uniter blinked up at her for a minute, as though somehow still surprised by Korra's words. She rose slowly in her gilding of chains, stepping closer, and reached tentatively to take one of Korra's hands between her own. She turned it gently, like she wasn't quite sure what she was doing with it, or why, but like she knew it was important anyway. Finally, she twined their fingers together and met Korra's gaze again.

Korra felt blind-sighted by green, dazed and lost in eyes whose magnetism she'd always blamed on power, charisma, and control, never on... this, this awful war going on in her chest between painfully sharp relief at she was here, alive, and dull, cold fear at the thought of sending her away again. She knew her face was telling a whole story, all pleading eyes and bitten lip, silently begging for Kuvira to give her an out, another option, to have something else up her sleeve.

Kuvira squeezed her hand and smiled sadly. "You have to."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** There are many things on this earth I do not own, and the Avatar universe is one of them.

 **Rating:** M, eventually.

 **Pairing:** Korvira.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay, all. Busy time of year.

* * *

"It's been a long time, Avatar."

Korra didn't hesitate to cross the deck and stand at Kuvira's window. She did, however, hesitate over her words. An apology wouldn't begin cover it, not after six months, but she had to start somewhere.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to come sooner. But I didn't want to come before I had… something to show for it."

"Do you know who came to see me?"

Korra blinked up at her. "No?"

"Tenzin."

Korra stared blankly, almost unsure she'd heard correctly. "Really?"

"He told me you have been trying to negotiate my release." The half-smirk on Kuvira's lips suddenly reminded Korra of the first time they'd met after her recovery, when she wasn't sure if she was meeting the old ally who had fought beside her in Su's guard, or a new enemy she wasn't prepared to fight. "Actually, the words he used were 'She's like a polar bear dog with a bone, and I don't think she's ever going to let it go.'"

Nervously, Korra laughed. "Yeah, sounds like something Tenzin would say. Why—"

"He said he thought he owed it to you to try and see what you saw. We talked for a few hours." She inclined her head. "He's a smart man."

"Did he tell you, then? What everyone wants me to do?"

"He did."

"Then I hope he told you I'm not going to do it!" Korra clenched her fists at her side. "I'm not taking your bending. I can't believe, after everything, after you stopped the war, after you turned yourself in—Gah!" Her frustration with the last six months of negotiations was on clear display.

"What I can't believe is their willingness to give me a throne again, even without my bending."

Kuvira's cool, even tone calmed Korra's anger. A little. "I mean, that part's a given. It's in the constitution _they all_ wrote. If you're free, you're… president." Korra frowned. "President Kuvira sounds weird, doesn't it?"

"What, emperor was a better fit?"

Korra chuckled, then rubbed at her elbow, glancing away. There was a lot going unsaid right now, poorly hidden under the surprisingly easy banter between them, even after all this time away. Kuvira looked good, less pale since the guards had turned half of the solid roof into wooden grating instead, per Korra's demand, and stronger, too. Like she'd spent these last months with something to look forward to.

And every time Korra looked at her, all she could think about was what she'd done when she saw her last, the haunting feeling of sand-chapped lips and ragged fingernails against the side of her neck, and more than one late-night wandering thought of what it might be like to do it again, without sand and dust and dehydration; less frantic, less afraid.

She _wanted_ to do it again.

But she sure wasn't going to _talk_ about it. No way. Talking would take it out of the heat of the moment, and she wasn't going there.

Luckily, Kuvira seemed to be on the same page.

"Somehow, I think you'll always just feel like a Great Uniter, you know?" Korra admitted. "Other titles feel too… small."

Kuvira shook her head a little, staring at Korra like she couldn't quite make sense of her, and Korra wasn't ready to unpack any of it just yet.

"Look," she insisted. "I won't do it, okay? I'm not going to take your bending! I—you don't deserve that! I'll fake it if I have to!" She bit her lip, glancing towards the guards at the far railing, and intentionally lowered her voice. "I'll, I don't know. Pretend I took it away until you're safely in power, until you've proven that you—"

"—Avatar, no." Kuvira's tone was final. "You can't do that. The trust you've give me these past two years was beyond anything I could have asked for, beyond anything I deserved, but that would be too far. It would go against everything the Avatar stands for—"

"—What, balance? I think we've got an entire Earth Kingdom that's shown pretty clearly what they need for balance is—"

"—And what about balance for all nations, hmm? What about the trust you would break between yourself your father, Tenzin, the Firelord—even President Raiko."

Korra grumbled another protest under her breath and watched her foot kick against the deck. Kuvira's fingers appeared through the slats, rapping the side of the prison, drawing her attention back up again.

"Have you forgotten that I tried to kill you—"

"—Do you _want_ to lose your bending?"

"—twice?"

"You—You also saved my dad's life! You saved over a million people in Ba Sing Se alone! I'd bet you've saved twice as many people as you've… killed." Korra frowned.

Kuvira's raised a brow, as though her point had been made.

Korra shook her head. "There are other leaders who probably can't even say that much." She squared her jaw. "I won't do it."

"Then why are you here." There was a sudden chill in Kuvira's voice, but Korra didn't think it was anger. It was too fragile, ice-thin, just clinging to the surface of something dark, deep, and waiting.

"I don't know," Korra admitted. "Things always seem to work out when I come, though." She sighed. "I just can't do that to you. I can't take your bending. I—I hate what it would say, you know? About… danger, about balance. What you did, when you took the throne before… That wasn't about bending. You weren't a threat because you… because you were an incredibly talented metalbender, you were a threat because of how you chose to rule, because you wouldn't let anyone dissent, because you were chasing people out of your own kingdom or locking them up out of fear and that? Anyone is capable of that! Benders, non-benders—there are so many ways to go wrong, when you're the one who has to make the decisions." Korra shook her head. "We already took most of that away from you. That's what democracy does, I guess. That's the point. And I think Raiko's the proof that isn't perfect, either, but…" She sighed again. "I don't know where I'm going with this. But it ends here. I won't take your bending."

"Then go back to them, and propose something else."

"I've tried! Unless you give it up, there's nothing I can—"

"Tell them I'll give up my army."


End file.
